Under the Bridge
by Aegisaur-Shieldino
Summary: Inspired directly by the song with the same name by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Harry Potter is done with Hogwarts, and life in general, but they aren't done with him.
1. A Lonely Pawns Feelings

The Goblet of Fire flares, and a piece of parchment flies out. It landed in Dumbledore's outstretched hand, and he announces the first victim... sorry... champion: "Viktor Krum, Durmstrang." The Goblet shoots another piece of parchment into the skies, with the name "Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons." The Goblet cannons out a third piece of parchment. I don't really care, as I know my name is just going to come out. However, the name isn't mine, it's Cedric Diggory's. I hope that it stops, but I know it won't. Fate hates me.

Sure enough, my name comes out. "Not that it matters, that you care, or that it will change anything, but someone else put my name in there. Not me."

I walk into the antechamber just as the others had. Fleur sees me first and asked me why I'm here.

"That's what they're trying to figure out in the hall. My name came out on a piece of paper with my name on it, but not my signature. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go lie down and pretend this is all a dream."

Bagman walks in excitedly, nearly bouncing, and exclaims, "May I present, as luck would have it, the Fourth Champion!" He looks at the other champions, assembled on the opposite side of the chamber as me "Er, where is he?"

Cedric nods pointedly past Bagman. Bagman turns, and seeing me uncomposed, though at least standing now, states bluntly, "Good Lord, what happened to you?"

True to form, I don't answer. Bagman, however, doesn't miss a beat: "Right then, gather 'round as I explain the first task." Noone moves. For the first time, Bagman's exuberant grin falters momentarily.

Enter the four remaining judges, along with the Hogwarts Professors.

Fleur explodes, ranting, "Madame Maxime! 'Zey are saying 'zat 'zis little boy is to compete wiz' us!"

I wince. "If you don't mind, I _am_ fifteen."

Ignoring my comment completely, Madame Maxime chimes in icily, "I 'ole'eartedly agree. 'E is too young to compete in 'zese tasks."

Karkaroff makes his presence known now: "Headmaster Dumbledore, I thought we had agreed to one champion a school, meaning that either he cheated, and you failed to stop him, or you cheated."

Harry finally blurted out, "It wasn't Dumbledore's fault."

Karkaroff sneered, "I wasn't talking to you, idiot boy."

Madame Maxime again, "Now, now. Let us 'ear 'ze boy out. After all, tis' no fault of Dumblydorr's eef 'zis leetle boy cheated."

Professor Moody steps forward, coming to my defense: "It's not Harry's fault. We all saw how the Weasley Duo couldn't get through the Age Line, meaning that someone else put his name in."

As he speaks, Karkaroff grows very pale: "YOU!"

Professor Moody growls back, "Yes me. And who better to put the name in the Goblet than, say, a Death Eater."

Dumbledore, apparently scandalized, shouts, "Alastor!"

Professor Moody, whose full name was apparently Alastor Moody, merely continues glaring.

Bagman, noticing the tension, claps his hands twice. "We're not here to rehash old rivalries, we need to discuss the tournament and the involvement of young Harry."

Madame Maxime and Karkaroff immediately say no.

Dumbledore says yes.

The other bloke in the room, don't know his name, says yes.

Bagman says yes because Crouch, the-bloke-whose-name-I-knew-not said yes.

And that's that.

Can't help but feel that people older than I am don't quite understand me. Adults especially.


	2. Feeling Alone in the Crowd

I walk back down to the Gryffindor Common Room, feeling alone.

I get to the door and hear the shouting.

I tell the Fat Lady the password and as she swings open, the resulting blast of noise from the partying going on inside is deafening.

"Harry!" "Wow!" "The Chosen One, literally!" "Hogwarts Champion!" "How'd you do it!?" "Teach me your ways!"

The 'man of the hour' walks in, resigned to his fate. Honestly, nothing could be worse than this.

I attempt to escape from the crowd, and make my way as well as I can to the Boys' Dormitories.

Jostled and shoved, knocked over once, I eventually make it away.

When I arrive, I see Ron standing there with a strained smile.

"Congrats mate."

Hands on my knees, I can only pant "Thanks" as a reply, and hope he understands.

"So, how'd you do it?"

I finally stand up, "Do what?"

"Get your name in the tournament. Why didn't you tell me how to do it?"

"I didn't put my name in, that is why I can't, and so didn't, tell you."

"Bull."

"It's true."

"Harry, I'm your best mate, you can tell me how you did it."

"I _didn't, _though. You're my best mate, you should understand that."

"You're just an egotistical glory-seeking liar, you are."

"At least I'm not so dumb as to be jealous of yet _another_ chance to die."

"Fine, be that way." Ron stomps off.

Neville started walking over, but when someone comes in, either bored of the party, or wanting to torture me further, he squeaks, turns, and leaves me to certain death.

I decide to leave the dorm to try and talk to Hermione, who would definitely understand.

She wasn't at the party, as far as I could tell, probably because they would interrupt her reading time, and so she was probably at the library.

'Guess that's where I've got to go.'

When I escape the mob, I head straight for the Library.

Hermione was sitting at a table in a secluded corner, looking to all the world to be reading two books intermittently while also writing on at least four papers.

When I see her, I sigh in relief.

"Hermione!"

She glanced up at the voice, shushed him, and looked back down.

"What ya reading?"

She sighed, "Why do you care? Also... Shhh."

"Hey, how're you doing?"

She looked up, "Feeling abandoned, I never see you or Ron because you're always with each other."

"Well, it's your lucky day, me and Ron are no longer on speaking terms."

She slammed both of the books shut simultaneously. "Oh, _that's _why you're here. 'I lost a friend, but in a pinch, I guess you'll do'." She finished packing up and walked off.

"Hermione, no! You know I didn't mean it that way."

She huffed and walked faster.

Sweet solitude.

At least I have ten full years practice and three summers.

I mean, don't get me wrong, it _was_ nice having friends who cared.


	3. Feeling Alone and Rejected

Dumbstruck, I sits down.

'This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They lied to us. To _me!_ They promised eternal fame and glory to the competitors, fun, safety even. Best of all, I wasn't even supposed to be a part of it! I guess my trust was misplaced.'

"What's left for me here? Open hostility? Murder attempts? Expulsion? Certainly nothing good."

I stand, turn, and walk out of the library. Right into Draco.

"Watch where you're going, idiot."

"Sorry."

Draco's face darkens.

"Going for good?"

'How did he...?'

"So what if I am?"

"What gives you the right?"

Before I can even speak, he cuts me off.

"No, not here, meet me at the 7th floor main staircase in ten minutes."

'I can't read Malfoy today. He's usually so straightforward, but this is a bit much, even for him. I wonder what's up with him.'

...

I'm leaning against a statue, bored out of my mind, wondering why it's anyone would want to build a statue of a quilt, and why anyone would paint it alternating orange and yellow. Actually, now I'm wondering why anyone would paint _anything_ orange or yellow, when every single other colour in the entire magical universe both exists and is a better choice. Like gold. Call it house bias, but gold is a much better colour than orange and yellow combined, while looking quite like the two. Red too. Red's a very nice colour, and goes with just about everything. Even green and silver is a better colour scheme than orange and yellow.

Speaking of green and silver.

"Malfoy."

"Potter. Alright, come with me."

'I wonder where we're going.'

We walk a short ways, and don't pass a single person. I've never actually been to this part of the castle, so I look around.

There isn't a whole lot that's worth mentioning except for a very large tapestry depicting a Magical Château. A man walks out of what looks like a workshop on top of the highest battlements wearing a pair of wings and holding a wand. He nods to me, then jumps down off of the battlements. He soars a bit, before plummeting to the earth below. I gasp. I needn't've, because I hear a crack, and then another as he reappears at the door of his workshop. He pauses, looks at where the wreckage of his creation is still visible off in the distance, shakes his head, and walks back into the shop.

A shout from the distance rouses me from my reverie.

It's Malfoy. "Oy, you coming or not."

Not waiting for my response, he turns and walks away.

I take one last look, then run after him.

Eventually we stop. I only notice because I bump into Draco for the second time today.

He paces forward and backwards, before turning abruptly and opening a door in the wall. He goes in and motions for me to follow.


End file.
